Maybe Not
by lizziebrewster
Summary: Sometimes, being drunk isn't such a good thing. B/B one shot


_Don't get me wrong, I'm a shipper. 100% a B/B shipper. But sometimes ... I get fed up of the Perfect First Time stories. So this is just a little bit of fun to counteract that! _

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"Another!"

He slurred to the bartender as their shot glasses slammed back against the wooden bar. Between the two of them, they were already most of the way through the bottle of bourbon and didn't show any signs of letting up soon. Had they been strangers he'd have thrown them out long ago, already far too drunk and well beyond the 'we reserve the right to refuse service' point. But he knew this couple. The often came to his bar: regularly looking stressed and always skirting around the bucket loads of sexual tension that they refused to acknowledge.

Perhaps that's why he'd given in and let them get too drunk too quickly: maybe getting pissed out of their heads would finally break down whatever barrier stood between them and they'd just get it on already.

And it seemed to be working. Certainly, they'd gradually moved closer and closer together, her hand resting steadily higher on his thigh as she wobbled on the bar stood beside him, and yet, the man continually ignored it. Though, the bartender noted, the rhythmic clenching of his jaw betrayed how much it was getting to him.

The woman giggled as she tried and failed to bring the small glass to her lips, spilling its dark contents down her creased white shirt. Looking down at the stain, she patted at it uncoordinatedly with a napkin, wobbling herself off balance until she slipped from the stool altogether and landed in a laughing heap on the floor.

"Maybe it's time to take her home, buddy." The bartender took the shot glasses off the bar: clearly he wasn't giving them any choice in the matter.

"Boooooth!" The woman crooned up to the man chuckling deeply from his stool. "I fell Booth."

Sliding off his own stool, he stood and reached down to her, grasping her wrists in his hands before giving her a sharp tug upwards.

"Come on, Bones. Up." She bumped into him as she stood; their bodies pressed together firmly, eyes locked, neither seeming to breathe. She leaned in towards him just as the guy jumped back, away from her touch and refusing to look at her for a moment. He fumbled in his wallet, throwing a wad of bills to the bartender.

The more sober of the two (but not by much), he rounded behind the woman and, hands firmly on her shoulders, steered her out of the door and into a cab.

------

Traffic was heavy tonight; the weather was awful and there'd been an accident somewhere up ahead bringing the road to a painfully slow crawl. Not that he cared so much, watching the metre click over into the next dollar, but he could have done without the couple in the back being so … was amorous still the right word when the attention was entirely one sided?

They were drunk, clearly (well beyond drunk really), and that beautiful woman was all over him. What was the guy thinking, blatantly ignoring her advances?

She'd been pawing at him the moment they sat down, feeling his chest through his shirt, nipping at his jaw, trailing her nails up his thigh, and the son-of-a-bitch kept pushing her off.

"You're drunk, Bones." He'd told her time and time again.

"So? You know you want it, Seeeeeeley." She'd purred at him, nipping at his earlobe playfully, breasts pushed firmly against his arm.

"Stop it." He'd pushed her off of him, yet again, eyes staring out the window, focusing on nothing in particular. She'd slumped back to her own side of the cab, whether feigning irritation or truly pissed off, the cab driver wasn't sure.

The rest of the journey passed with silence from behind the screen. The traffic had eased up slightly now and they were making good speed. Looking in his rear-view mirror as he pulled up outside their destination, the cabbie saw the woman fast asleep, the man looking at her longingly. Was this really the same man who'd consistently rejected her advances just 15 minutes ago? The driver rolled his eyes before turning to collect his fare.

"Wake up Bones, you're home." He pushed at her arm gently.

"No. Sleeping."

Pushing at her harder he tried again, only to be swotted away by the sleepy eyed woman.

"Lemmelone, Booth" she muttered, nuzzling into the seat.

He let out a sigh, turned, and opened his door to the relentless rain. Rounding the cab quickly, he yanked open her door and tried once again to wake her. He caught the cabbies eye in the mirror, who merely shrugged and smirked back at him. Not my problem, mate.

Scooping the woman up in his arms, he muttered 'thanks' in the driver's general direction and kicked the door shut behind them.

Waiting a moment or two before pulling away, he watched as the man carried her towards an apartment building. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight despite still being asleep. His shoulders were high and tense, jaw locked, as he let them into the building and they disappeared from sight.

------

Using the key from her purse, he let them into her apartment. Despite her low weight, his tired arms ached from carrying her and in the toss-up between bed and couch, couch won.

Laying her back against the soft cushions, he looked around for a blanket before finding himself wrenched back towards her.

"Wha…!?" He spluttered as her lips crushed against his. He didn't have time to react. He didn't have time to think. Reflexes and inhibitions dulled by the vast quantity of alcohol in his system, he simply gave in. After years of fighting it, he kissed her back.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around his tie, pulling him in closer to her as their tongues wrestled in a messy kiss. Legs acting of their own volition, he straddled her on the couch, fingers fisting in her hair. He could taste the alcohol in their kiss, unsure if it was from her tongue or his.

All thoughts of caution or resistance thrown to the wind, he fumbled at the buttons down the front of her shirt. Finally getting it open, he nuzzled his face between her breasts as he felt her fingers clawing at his cocky belt buckle. Unable to see and unpractised she couldn't undo it and let out a frustrated grumble from beneath him.

Jumping up from the couch to do it for himself, he felt light headed and dizzy at the sudden movement – he really was quite drunk still. Staggering slightly, he shed his pants and briefs, freeing the erection that seemed to start pounding the second her lips had met his.

Propping herself up on the couch with one arm, she reached for him with the other. Reaching too far, she toppled off the couch and once again she was on the floor in giggles. No matter, she knew what she want, and nothing was going to stop it now.

Liberating herself of her own pants she pulled him down on top of her, his erection pressing firmly against her stomach. Kissing him forcefully again, she rolled them over, as his head slapped against the floor.

"Ow!" He let out with a puff of air. She ignored it.

Straddling him now, she licked her way quickly down his chest before swirling her tongue over the head of his cock.

"Whoa Bones, you gotta give a guy some warning before you do that!"

"Before what? This?" She took him fully in her mouth, running her teeth along his length.

"Shit. Fuck. Yes. That."

"Should I stop and give you warning?" She took him in her mouth again, her tongue working his underside while her teeth ran along the top.

"Yes. No. What?" He was struggling to think, all coherent thoughts banished from his mind as she worked him up and down.

She pulled away and he didn't know whether to complain or feel relieved. He didn't have time to think about it before she was straddling him again.

"Okay. Warning: I'm going to fuck you now." The words sent lightning shooting through his veins.

"Wait Bones. Wait. Wait. No. Ahh!" She had barely lowered herself onto him before he came, unable to control it or hold it back.

"Shit. Bones. I'm sorry."

She looked down at him, eyes wide with shock and disappointment. Mouth agape, she sat straddling him as he softened inside her.

"I'm sorry Bones."

"It's fine, Booth." She practically spat the words at him, pulling herself off him before standing over him. "It's fine. Perfectly normal." Unsteady on her feet, she wobbled slightly as she walked towards her bedroom, a stick mess already running down the inside of her thigh.

"Bones! Wait!" He scrambled to get up off the floor, legs numb, head spinning again as he did so. Hearing him behind her, she slammed the door in his face, turning the lock for added effect.

"Bones! Please! Just come out here."

"It's fine. We're too drunk anyway. It shouldn't have happened. Just go."

"No."

"Yes Booth. Now. I want you to go."

He sighed, forehead resting against the wooden door.

"I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow?" he ventured.

"Maybe."

Maybe not.


End file.
